Without a Scratch
by Eternally Romantic
Summary: He'd seen a lot, that old stuffed dog. Now it was time for a new owner.


"Very good, George." The teacher praised as she walked up and down the aisles between the desks. All around him, other students were bent over their own notebooks, pens scratching as they worked on their penmanship. George had already finished the assignment, filling all the lines of his page with neat letters.

He smiled at the praise and set down his pen in the well of his desk. "Thank you, Ms. Adams."

"Why don't you try writing down this phrase?" She flipped to a clean page of his notebook and wrote out a quote. George nodded and dutifully began to copy the quote over and over. He didn't notice the glares of some of his classmates as they struggled to complete the original assignment around him.

* * *

"How'd you get so good at writing?" One classmate, Thomas, asked as they were released for the day.

"Henry takes me to his office sometimes and he taught me." George answered simply, holding his notebook close to his chest. Some of the other boys loitered around them, clearly listening but not saying a word.

"Lucky. I wish my father had taught me." Thomas shuffled his feet, as if ashamed. "My letters don't look so good."

"I didn't write well when I began. It just took practice." George flipped through his notebook to find his worse letters. "See? You will get better."

"I still wish my father taught me." Thomas muttered, kicking the ground.

"George doesn't have a father." One of the boys loitering around them finally spoke, his tone defiant. "Isn't the right Georgey-boy?" He bumped his shoulder against George's. George stayed silent, closing his notebook and holding it close to his chest again.

"Yeah, his father's dead." Another piped up, but George didn't look to see who said it. He could feel the eyes of his classmates all focused on his and he didn't like it. "Isn't he, George?" They continued to needle him but George made sure to stay quiet. Granny Isobel always told him to be nice to others since they were all less fortunate than him. He knew she would be proud of him for biting his tongue but he wanted nothing more than to shout at them.

The other boys had formed a loose circle around him as they waited for him to respond, but thankfully they were interrupted from going farther by the sound of tires crunching the gravel.

Whispers erupted as the boys took in the shiny car now parked a few feet away. The crowd that had circled around George backed away as they recognized Henry walking towards them. "I'm surprised to see so many of you still here." Henry said with a smile. "Surely your mothers' will be worried if you all don't get home soon. Come now, George." George hurried towards Henry and the open car door as the other boys slowly scattered, walking down the dirt paths towards their homes.

"How was your lessons?" Henry asked as he took his place behind the wheel and turned over the engine.

"Boring. All we do is focus on writing and I already know how to do that." George stuck his hand out over the door, enjoying the feeling of the wind pushing against his hand.

"Soon enough you'll be off to Eton." Henry reminded him, but George didn't need the reminder. He didn't know how he felt about the idea. He wanted to go to school, he wanted to learn more. But he also knew he'd miss his mother and family at Downton. "So, I have some work I have to do down at the office. I thought you might like to see all the new cars we have." George nodded at the plan until a familiar house came into view.

"Actually, can I go to Granny Isobel's?" Henry looked over at him in surprise.

"If that is what you want." George could tell Henry was surprised. He had never turned down a chance to see the new cars before, but right now, he had other things on his mind.

"Yes, please." George nodded and watched at Henry made his way over to Isobel's home, pulling into the drive and shutting off the engine. George didn't wait for Henry to open his door, instead pushing it open and running up the steps to the front door. He could hear the crunching of the gravel behind him as Henry joined him on the steps. George knocked, waiting for the butler to answer, bouncing on the tips of his toes impatiently.

"George!" Isobel exclaimed in surprise as she answered, taking in the scene of her grandson and Henry standing before her. "What brings you here?"

"George wanted to visit. I have to go to the office for a few hours. I hope it isn't too much an imposition. I'll retrieve him on my way back to Downton." Henry explained quickly, patting George on the shoulder as he spoke.

Isabel seemed surprised. "Of course, come in George. You know I always love to have you here." George took that as invitation to enter, stepping across the threshold and into the house.

"I shouldn't be more than a hour." Henry assured as he stepped away from the door.

"Take your time." Isobel waved him off. "Goodbye, Henry." She waved before closing the door. "Could you bring us some tea? And I think George would like some biscuits." Isobel instructed the waiting butler who nodded before hurrying off. George didn't wait for her as he walking into the sitting room, jumping up onto the settee and leaning back against the cushions. Isobel sat across from him, in a chair near the fireplace. "How are your lessons?"

"Fine." George shrugged, eyes wandering the room. Isobel tried to follow his wandering gaze, confused as to what he was searching for. "Can I ask you a question?" George finally focused his eyes on his grandmother.

"Of course, George." Isobel assured him, just as their tea and biscuits arrived. That seemed to divert George as he reached for the chocolate biscuits. "Is everything alright at home?" Isobel tried to steer the conversation back.

"Mhmmm." George muttered around a bite of his biscuit. He was already reaching for a second.

"How are your lessons going at the village school?" Isobel tried again, but George just shrugged before reaching for his cup of tea and dumping in a fair share of sugar.

"It's easy. I already know how to do all the things they are teaching." George wouldn't meet her eye and Isobel sensed that there was something he wanted to say.

"You'll be going off to Eton soon. Just like your father, and your grandfather." Isobel picked up her tea and moved to join her grandson on the settee. "You are going to learn so many things." She brushed his hair off his forehead and when he looked up at her with his blue eyes, Matthew's eyes, for a moment she was convinced it was Matthew she was talking to him as she did all those years ago.

"Was he smart?" George asked, blinking up at her. He didn't need to clarify who he was talking about. Isobel just knew.

"Very smart. Smartest boy in his class." Isobel answered, hoping her voice didn't break as it sometimes tended to do when she spoke of Matthew. It was the first time that George had ever asked about his father or at least asked her. Whether he had ever asked Mary, she couldn't say. Matthew wasn't a topic that came up between them often, or ever really.

"He loved you very very much, George." Isobel took a sip of her tea to settle her nerves. "I hope you know that. I have no doubt that if he could be here, he'd be so very proud of you."

"I know." George shrugs, reaching for another biscuit. "Mama tells me all the time. But I know it makes her sad to talk about him so I don't talk about him." Finishing the last of the biscuits, he brushed the crumbs off his fingers by wiping his hands against his trouser legs. "But I want to know more about him."

"You can always ask me."

* * *

"How was your lesson today?" Mary asked the same question she always asked her eldest. It had become routine for George and her to spend some time together in the lull that was the time after his dinner, but before the family meal. To see them now was almost like a study in contrasts. He was already dressed for bed, his dressing gown serving as a quilt as he laid on the ground drawing something in one of his notebooks. She was seated at her vanity, selecting her jewelry for dinner, already dressed for the meal.

"Boring." George didn't say anything more, continuing to scratch his pencil against the page in front of him.

"Did you do anything after?" Mary tried, already knowing the answer. George just shrugged and the scratching sounds continued.

"I heard you visited your grandmother today." That caused George to stop what he was doing. Mary looked down at him and saw his slightly stricken expression before patting her stool for him to join her at the vanity. He flipped his notebook closed and climbed up beside her.

"Did you have a nice time with her?" Mary's fingers instinctively began to brush back his hair from his eyes, that one lock always falling forward across his forehead.

"She gave me biscuits." This response made her laugh under her breath. Of course he would remember the biscuits. "And we talked."

"Oh? About what?" She asked, hoping that it would encourage him to share more. But she could see through his reflection in the mirror that he was hesitating. He wouldn't meet her eye. "Was it something you don't want me to know?"

"That's not it!" He was quick to correct her, head shaking insistently. "I just don't want to make you sad."

"Why would you think I'd be sad?"

"Because it was about papa." Mary felt her heart pick up pace in her chest. She didn't need George to clarify who he meant, after all, he never called Henry anything other than Henry. George seemed to pick up on her expression, hurrying to explain. "Some of the boys were saying things and I wanted to know more about him, but I know he makes you sad so I didn't want to bother you so I thought I could ask Granny and she'd—"

"It's alright George. Breathe." Mary interrupted him before he worked himself up into a panic.

"I'm sorry, Mama. I asked Granny because I didn't want to make you sad and now you are sad anyway."

"It does make me sad to think of him, I'll admit." She looked at her hands, at the new ring on her left hand from Henry in the place where his should still be. "But it also makes me happy to think of him now. You are very much like him, you know. Always thinking of others and wanting to help them." George seemed to perk up at this piece of information, preening slightly at the praise. It struck her that he was seven now, no longer her baby, but a young boy growing into a man that remarkably like his father. "I've been holding on to something of his since he passed." She opened a draw in her vanity and pulled out an item. George couldn't make out what it was until she presented it to him in her outstretched palm.

"A stuffed toy?" He took it from her, looking at the slightly frayed seams and the worn features.

"It's your father's. Actually, well, it's mine." Mary took it back from him, holding it in between her palms. "I gave it to him before he shipped out for the war. Told him to bring it home without a scratch. As you can see, he did." She handed it back to him. "It was found amongst his things after he, well, after he passed. I thought when he didn't return it to me that he'd lost it, but then out of the blue, it was returned to me. I've been keeping it here ever since." She gestured to the open drawer she had pulled it from. "I think you are old enough now to have it."

"Thank you." George accepted it back, holding it with more care now than he had when it had initially been presented to him.

"Knock, knock." Henry called out as he also knocked on the bedroom door. "The family is gathering for dinner. And someone is due to be in bed." George quickly picked up his dressing gown, shoving the toy in his pocket so Henry wouldn't see it.

"Goodnight, Mama." He scrambled to hug Mary. "Goodnight, Henry." He skipped hugging him and hurried out the room.

"Good talk?" Henry stood behind her, his hands settling on her shoulders.

"Mmmh." She didn't elaborate, returning to her abandoned task of picking her jewelry.

"Why do I get the sense that I'm missing something?" Henry teased, but Mary could tell he was worried. "Is George upset?"

"No, nothing like that." She finally made her selection, slipping the pieces on and adjusting them in the mirror before standing. "I was just thinking how big George has gotten."

"Yes, he'll be off to Eton soon enough. I know it was important to get him lessons with the village children, but when I went to collect him today, there seemed to be something going on…"


End file.
